I love the window seat. Whether it’s on a bus, car or airplane, I have to have the window seat.
Whether I’m 3 feet or 30,000 feet from the ground, I love to peer out at the world.
Know why? On a clear day, the world seems so still and manageable, especially from above.*
Everything is reduced to form and function. Details are omitted. Histories obscured. A farm is a farm. A field is a field. A road stretches from one compass point to the next. A river meanders on its path to the ocean.
On our flight to Arizona, we are blessed with a cloudless view nearly the whole distance. The heartland of America looks like a big patchwork quilt of greens, ambers and browns. Roads are childlike scribbles scratched across a sheet of paper stretching from East to West, writing the story of our country’s development. Perhaps because I was hungry, the mighty Rocky Mountains become row upon row of chocolate chunks topped with powdered sugar. I want to reach down with my index finger and run it through that sparkling frosting.
As I look at the world below in miniature, I realize the how connected everyone and everything really is. I’ve been hearing a lot about this lately and have had trouble wrapping my mind around it. It’s so obvious when you see the effort put into creating cities and road systems. The shape and size of a farm reflects not only the farmer’s labor but also the output that supports all us consumers. What one person does on his patch of earth does affect neighbors near and far.
It’s all perspective. Some days I want to gain altitude, grab a corner of the complicated quilt that is my life and shake it with all my strength. What is good and right will stick. What is bad will project out of my sight and reach.
I’ll try to remember all this when I can’t see beyond my walls.
Oh, and downloading Google Earth helps, too.
*All bets are off when flying around or through a storm system.